A Mother's Love
by Cainwen the Warrior
Summary: A look at the life of the wraith before everything went wrong. The thoughts of Searlaid, a wraith wife and mother NOT QUEEN during the last year of her life. Rated T for safety Some chapters later may be M, and will be labeled as such.
1. Nightmares

**Nightmares**

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Cainwen: Hello Everyone! See, I didn't leave you without something to read for too long. It's not as if they would let me. 

Cullough and Steve stand threateningly over me.

Cainwen: Anyway, I hope you enjoy the one shot I posted earlier today, and enjoy this story. I have no idea how long it is going to be. And yes, I have plans for at least 3 sequels, so never fear, all story lines will be completed...eventually. Enjoy!

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"Mama!" 

The cry echoes in the halls of the hive, and I feel Durhan calling for me in distress…I feel him pulling at my mind, though I know it could be no other child in this hive.

I am careful as I ease myself out of the bed I share with my husband Cullough. In the low gravity between planets, a sudden movement can set the hanging bed flying. As my feet touch the sticky floor, I wrap a shawl around my shoulders and walk as quickly as possibly towards the chamber shared by my five youngest sons. Durhan is the youngest, then Eòghann, Gilleasbachan, Iùrnan and Flaithbheartach.

In the dim light, I see Durhan sitting in his hammock-bed, his tiny frame wracked with sobs, tears streaming down his face.

"Child, what is wrong?" I ask him softly as I take him in my arms. He buries his head into my chest, twining his tiny hands in my shawl. I carry him over to the window, sitting on the ledge and wedging myself there, so I do not drift away.

Gently, soothingly, I rub his back, reassuring him of my presence as his sobs slow to wet hiccups. I bow my head so I can whisper quietly in his ear again, "Dearest, what is wrong?"

Durhan looks up at me, my little child, so perfect, with the pale blue skin of our race, a mop of dark hair like the night sky, his eyes golden orbs set in beds of snow, twin slits framing the thin mouth…terror. There is terror in the twin pools of light set in the face of my little boy.

"I…I…I lost you!" he wails in his child voice, not yet deepened, and burrows into my chest once again.

"Lost me?" I echo, and pull him off me so I can see his face. I smile reassuringly as I ask, "How could you lose me?"

"The wa-warrior Wr-wraith took you t-to his qu-qu-queen and she k-k-killed you!" he begins to sob anew and wraps his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist, as though he were afraid to let me go for fear that I should vanish. I hug him tightly, continuing to rub his back in soothing circles, hoping he will loosen his death-grip on my neck soon…

"Hush now, child, I am not going anywhere. It was nothing but a dream, _muileach_," I murmur, kissing him and stroking his hair with my free hand until he quiets, though he maintains his fierce hold on me. "Where did you get such an idea?"

"The warrior. He told me and Gilleasbachan that we would one day soon all live in one big hive and there would be no need for separate wives and mothers, 'cause there'd only be one queen!" he wails, his voice muffled in my nightgown, now damp with his tears.

"What ridiculousness!" I laugh. "One hive? You would need a hive the size of a solar system! And we would still be standing on one another's heads!"

He giggles at the idea, and hiccups. He relaxes a bit, enough to ease his choke-hold on my neck.

"Durhan, come here darling," I say gently and pull him back so he can see my face. "I promise you—I will always be here for you. You could not lose me if you tried!"

He sniffs, and wipes at his face with the back of his hand. He stares into my eyes. "Promise?"

"Promise," I hold my hand over my heart. "I swear by the Ancient One, I will never leave you," I reassure him, and he smiles at me, the terror in his eyes replaced by trust. I hold his gaze steadily for a moment, and then direct his attention out the translucent window. "Durhan, can you hear the stars' song?"

He hiccups again, and closes his eyes as he nestled into my lap. He listens quietly as his hiccups dissipate. After a moment, he whispers, "Yes."

"Listen to them," I tell him. "They will always tell you the truth. If ever you fear, and want to know where I am, listen to them."

He slowly grows limp in my arms as I softly hum along with the stars, and I am able to return him to his hammock. I worry that he is having nightmares. As a child, he should not have to suffer such things. Dreams for the Wraith are shared, and those with the strongest mental abilities, usually the eldest, bear the brunt of the dreams, and nearly all the nightmares. He should not have such dreams.

I check on my other children in this chamber before I return to my bed. They are all sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the night's disturbance. In nearby chambers 14 of my older children sleep quietly. My two eldest sleep tonight in their own hives, with their own families and children.

As I walk down the corridor back to my own chamber, I wonder what the future holds—a future like that which so frightened my little son? Or a future like that we hope for? One of peace, love and harmony? Or one of war, hatred and turmoil?

TBC


	2. A Soft Word

**A Soft Word**

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Cainwen: Attention Readers!!! I thank those of you who have so kindly left me a review And to those who didn't: STOP BEING LAZY AND REVIEW!!!!! Thank you. Hope you like this chapter. The "A Father's Love" complement chapter will be up later today or tomorrow. Enjoy!!!

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I climb back into my bed, careful not to upset it, for does not rest on the floor, but hangs, as do all our beds. We have heard rumors that some hives have artificial gravity and so place beds on the floor, but we do not. We are a hive of 5 families, too small to have need of such technology. Besides, the low gravity provides such amusement for the younglings on the long journeys.

Cullough is awake, and as I move to lie down, he spreads his arm over my pillow, inviting me to rest my head on his chest instead. I smile, and accept the invitation, allowing him to pull myself to him. Together we pull the covers over our bodies and tuck them firmly into place so they do not drift in the remains of the night.

He guides my head to lie above his heart, and embraces me in his strong arms, one hand resting between my shoulder blades, the other on my hip. He kisses the top of my head, and mumbles into my hair, "What troubles you, beloved?"

He must be sensing my worry. We all learn from a very early age, almost from birth, to build mental shields, both to keep our thoughts to ourselves and to block the intrusions of others. The weaker of these barriers break down in sleep, but we can learn to keep some things hidden.

Except from our spouses. Even before we met face to face, Cullough and I had met in thought and dream, guided to one another across the vastness of space by the guidance of the Spirits. When we wed, our minds, bodies and souls became one—there are no secrets, can be no secrets between us.

"Durhan had another of his nightmares," I tell him, and I do not have to look to know that his face is contorted in confusion.

"He cannot have," he muses, and I nod—this has become almost a ritual to us. We both know that Durhan _has_ nightmares, despite its impossibility; yet still we wonder at it, deny it its right to exist. "We were both asleep, we should have had the nightmare."

"I know," I whisper, and sigh. There was always something…strange…different…about Durhan, even before his birth, though other than the nightmares we have never been able to say just what it was.

"What did he dream this time?"

"He dreamt that the warrior who stopped at the camp a few days ago had taken me to his queen and that she had killed me."

We fall silent, both pondering this, greatly perturbed. We had overheard the warrior talking to some of the warriors of our own hive, talking about the consolidation of hives under one queen, and eliminating the need for individual mates. We could not believe that any wraith would think thus, but it was not so long ago that we could not conceive of a hive with more than eight families, and yet what we feared has come to pass—hives have joined and grown larger, and in order to feed have begun to shun the way of our ancestors. It sickens us to think of such things, but we are powerless to stop it.

"_Cullough, I do not want any more warriors coming near our children," _I think to him and I sense his consent—we must protect the younglings from these…evil ideas. We both know that we cannot forbear to offer shelter or fellowship to anyone, but we can keep them from our children.

He holds me tighter, and I spread my hand over his bare chest, feeling his warmth, his smooth skin, seeing in my mind the tattoos that trace his honor and his strength on his flesh. I close my eyes, and breathe in his scent, a wonderful scent, clean and earthy, warm and alive—my Cullough. _Am Cullough, am annsachd_. I purr contentedly as he runs his fingers through my hair, traces the black tattoo lines on my temple and cheek gently with a nail. I listen to his strong, steady heartbeat, am lulled by the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It draws me out of space and time, away from fears of what our race is becoming, fears for my children. It returns me to the night I first lay with Cullough and illumines the love that has burned forever in my heart for him, and further, to the love of my mother, my father, my sisters and brothers, friends and countless cousins…to hearing tales of the ancient ones as I lay in my hammock as a child, rocked to sleep by my grandfather…

_"Tell me the story of the wraith," I begged him for the thousandth time, and he laughed his deep, rumbling laugh._

"_Do you not want to hear a different tale?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer his tiny granddaughter would give him._

"_No," I said petulantly, crossing my arms and sticking out my lower lip in a pout. He laughed again._

"_Very well then," he began as he nudged my bed so it rocked ever so gently. "Many years ago, before even my grandfather was born, there were no Wraith. There were the Lanteans, and the Suleviae. The Lanteans created us, though not intentionally, mind you. They had been performing experiments to eliminate genetic diseases from their people, but instead of genetically ideal humans, they created genetically unstable human-like creatures."_

At the time of course, I did not know what he meant when he spoke of these things—I knew nothing of genes—but I understood this: The Lanteans saw us as a result of a bad mistake.

"They sent the 'mistakes' to a planet in a distant part of the galaxy; a planet inhabited, though they did not know it, by iratus. These 'mistakes' were of course then bitten by the iratus, but something miraculous happened then. You know," he would always remind me at this point, "How the iratus feed? They inject a person with a poison, which contains an enzyme and their genes. Normally, a bite from an iratus means death for a human.

"But these humans did not die. The iratus would bite and try to feed, but these humans were different. Their genes, unstable, constantly changing, blended with those of the iratus—"

"_And we were created!" I chirped and he smiled._

"_Yes. And we were very confused, for we had no memory, and no one to guide us. Soon we began to feel hunger, but knew not how to satisfy it._

"_We soon learned that the planet on which we lived, where we indeed had been abandoned, was where many peoples sent the ill humans of the galaxy to die. And we learned how to feed on these, though it terrified and disgusted us to think that the only way we could live was by others dying. Soon, our fears were compounded as many of us became deathly ill. Many of the humans who were sent to the planet were suffering from genetic diseases, and our unstable genes, constantly seeking new genes to be complete, had absorbed these diseases and we were dying._

_"The Lanteans soon realized that their "mistakes" had not perished as quietly as they had hoped, and that they were in fact living on the planet to which they had been banished, feeding on the other unfortunate humans. They were terrified of us, and wished to have nothing to do with us. But the Suleviae took pity on us, and agreed to amend the situation for the Lanteans. _

_"But they did not "fix" the situation, or at least, not as the Lanteans would have had it. Instead of ensuring our deaths, they took us in. They stabilized our genes, freeing us from the sickness that had given us so much fear. They taught us, helped us to understand. They clothed and fed us in every way. They taught us of the Ancient One and the Spirits and of the Guardians. They showed us how we could live as brothers with humans._

_"And now," he would say, tucking me in and kissing me on the forehead, "It is time for little ones to go to sleep. The rest of the tale can wait for another day."_

It has been many years since my grandfather went home to the Ancient One and the Spirits. I am glad sometimes that he did not live to see what has become of our race.

The Suleviae, too, are nearly gone. When the last of those wise, gentle, patient and kind people go home, must their wisdom be lost along with them?

**A/N: **_Am Cullough, am annsachd_my Cullough, my love/beloved


	3. Sleep Disturbed

**Sleep Disturbed**

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Cainwen: I am so sorry. I assure you I suffered.

(Wraith grin behind me)

Cainwen: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!

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I am content to stay floating in the warm, hazy half-world between sleep and wakefulness. As a youngling, I loved to find myself here of a morning, not awake, but not in the oblivion of sleep, fully able to enjoy the sensation of being completely at rest…

_Seàrlaid, go back to sleep._

Cullough? But if he is awake enough to tell me to go to sleep, I need to be awake. The only reason he would be up this early would be to help land the hive. Therefore, I need to be awake. There is much that needs to be done. It is not for an _aoghaire_ to lie abed.

Regretfully, I pull myself out of the fuzzy stupor of slumber to the cool clarity of wakefulness. I stretch luxuriously, revealing in the sensation of blissful renewal that comes sleep filled with pleasant dreams.

I sit up carefully, stretching my arms above my head as I judge the strength of the gravity. Hmm, mild. Upper atmosphere of the planet. Enough to make things drift generally downward, not enough to make you fall hard if you tripped.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and slide gently to the floor. I walk over to the washroom off our chamber, pulling my nightgown over my head as I do. It floats to rest over the back of a chair while I wash my face, letting the water trickle slow through my hair and down my neck. I shake off the excess, sending tiny droplets flying in all directions to be absorbed by the ship. Today, I will bathe later. Right now, this will have to suffice.

I slip into a light brown linen dress, and cover it with a long leather vest. As I pass out of our chamber, I nab my armband out of its nook and wedge it onto my left upper arm.

Once again, my feet whisper down the corridor to my children's room, but now floating by me are the sounds of the others rising and helping to prepare the hiveship.

Durhan is already sitting up in his hammock-bed, but unlike last night where tears shimmered on his checks, now he beams at me.

"Màthair!" he cries happily, and as I come closer to him, leaps into my arms. I hold him in a fierce hug, and he returns it zealously. I smile proudly—he is growing into the grace and lithe movement of our people.

"Durhan, ni sinn bracaist?" I whisper in his ear, and immediately he shouts happily, leaning back in my arms to see my face.

"An gabh sinn?"he asks loudly with the excitement only a child is capable of feeling for the daily meal.

"Shh," I whisper in a futile attempt to quiet my youngest son and leave my older sons sleep undisturbed.

Durhan giggles sheepishly, covering his mouth with his hands. I smile and sigh.

"Bread and fruit," I whisper, and he nods approvingly. He thinks for a moment, and then whispers loudly, "Can I watch _athair _bring the ship down?"

"For a bit," I whisper back. He loves to watch Cullough help guide the hiveship safely to ground, and in Durhan's buoyant mood he would no doubt be quite literally bouncing all over the _chidsin_.

"Yay!" he shouts loudly, and hugs me tightly in thanks. In their hammocks, his older brother's groan and stir sleepily.

Flaithbheartach raises his tousled hair and mumbles blearily, "Durhan, do you have to be so _loud_? So _early?_"

Grunts of concurrence rumble towards us from the other hammocks.

"That's enough Flaithbheartach," I tell him as a sheepish and embarrassed Durhan tries to hide in my chest. "Besides, it's time you all were getting up and helping to get this hive to ground."

"Yes mother," they chorus grumply. More sleepy, rebellious mutterings tumble from the hammocks as my young sons begin the slow process of extracting themselves, feeling blindly for pants, shirts, vests and socks.

"And remember to comb your hair _please!_" I beg them as I walk out with Durhan perched on my hip. I cannot help but smile at the mutinously muttered protests.

"Girls! Ceana, Mùirne, Una, Teàrlag, Dolidh! Get up please! We are landing! To your stations please!" I call into the next room. I duck my head in to see five forms huddled under the blankets, unheeding to my call to wakefulness. I come in all the way. "Girls? Are you awake?"

Ceana, Mùirne, Una and Dolidh mumble and mutter in reply, while Teàrlag grumbles into her pillow, "Define 'awake'."

"Not in bed," I tell her. "Up up up! There is much to do and little time in which to do it!"

Durhan launches himself from my hip at this moment, and the weak gravity pulls him to land on Ceana's shoulder. He promptly and vigorously begins to poke, prod and generally try to rouse his older sister out of bed as only a four year old brother can.

"Up up UP SLEEPY HEAD!" he laughs as he tugs her ear and hair none-too-gently. I quickly scoop him up and place him on my shoulders before Ceana can retaliate more vigorously than her drowsy, half-hearted swipes at her brother's irritating hands.

"Durhan! Enough!" I tell him as he joyfully drums on my head with his hands. "A nigheanan! Mosgail!

I move along to the other two rooms. However, my older children are already dressing and getting ready to help.

As we go to the control room, Durhan continues to drum on my head. I must ask Ailde to introduce him to the bodhràn. Perhaps learning that particular instrument would give him something to drum on, besides my head.

We come at last to the control room, and I lift Durhan off my shoulders. Cullough stands at one of the stabalizer controls, one hand on the panel, while in his other arm is cradled the newest member of our hive, Stiobhan.

"Da!" Durhan shouts happily and leaps from my arms, the gentle gravity carrying him safely to ground before he runs to wrap himself around Cullough's legs.

"_Magainn mhath_ Durhan!" Cullough greets our youngest child. "How are you this morning?"

"Good!" he chirps and begins bouncing lightly on his feet, still holding tightly to my husbands legs. Fortunately, the gravity is just heavy enough to hold them both to the floor. "Da, can I watch? Pleeaase?" he begs as only a child can.

Cullough looks at me, wishing to consult me before agreeing. I give him a wan smile. _Could he stay with you till we land? He wants to watch, and I fear breakfast will never be made if he is bouncing all over the chidsin._

He returns my smile warmly. _Of course. But why are you up? You could have slept longer._

I look Durhan in the eye. Granted, he is looking at me upside down, but still, I look him in the eye. "Durhan, Da says that you may stay and watch. Go on, hop up onto one of the chairs over there," I tell him, and he disengages Cullough's legs so I can help him scramble up onto one of the small chairs by the "dummy" console. I try to hold his gaze, but he is already becoming enraptured with the false controls. ""Now, what are the rules in the control room?"

"Don't touch anything 'cept this, don't shout, no running," Durhan recites as his small hands begin to fiddle with the play consol.

"Good boy," I kiss him and lovingly ruffle his hair before replying to Cullough._ I could not sleep anymore, unless you would like to go without breakfast this morning._

_There are others to make breakfast,_ he tells me admonishingly. I walk out of the control room for the chidsin, responding as I do, _And if everyone shirked their duties to sleep late?_

I love Cullough dearly, but sometimes he does try to protect me so. Of course, he would say I am too protective of him. Mmm, perhaps.

But he has not seen what I have.

**TBC **

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**Gaelic translations** (let me know if you prefer them at the beginning.)

Màthair--mother

Ni sinn bracaist?—shall we make breakfast?

An gabh sinn?—What are we having? lit: What will we take for breakfast?

A nigheanan! Mosgail!—my daughters! Rise/get up!


End file.
